


Shades of Valentine's Day

by elliemoran



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Crush, Confessions, Domestic Fluff, F/F, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Friendship, Living Together, M/M, Motherhood, Multiple Pairings, Restaurants, Roses, Valentine's Day, Waiters & Waitresses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-12 16:00:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1191102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliemoran/pseuds/elliemoran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of interconnected one-shots, each focusing on one character's memorable experience on Valentine's Day (or night). </p><p>This whole set was originally meant for Valentine's Day, but since I started writing it on the 13th, that didn't happen. Each chapter should technically be able to stand alone, if you want to read only the one. Maybe. Maybe not though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. White paper ribbons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This first chapter focuses on Eren, and his little/major crush on his favourite teacher.
> 
>  
> 
> I've named teacher!Levi Mr. Smith. It's weird, I know, but he couldn't be Heichou, and Eren just wouldn't call him Levi in this situation I didn't think. 
> 
> Plus we have some Levi/Erwin coming up so it seemed appropriate.

Eren eyed the clock for what felt like the millionth time, and decided he must have gone a little insane.

Leaning back until the springs under his chair creaked dangerously, with only his knees against the underside of the table to keep him from landing on his backside, he tried to figure out if he was hoping for class to end faster, or go on forever so he'd never have to go through with the stupid plan.

It didn't matter, of course. He had ten minutes left whether he wanted them or not.

His huff of breath came out a little louder than he'd intended, and Armin, in the next seat over, glanced at him curiously. Avoiding his best friend’s sharp eyes, Eren let his seat fall forward and slumped down to his favorite position. Stretching his back forward as far as he could without actually lifting up off of his seat, he angled his head on his crossed arms and inched forward until he had a clear view of the desk at the front of the room, and the man who sat behind it. 

Levi Smith.

The petite man was both the most feared and the most respected teacher on campus. If you messed up in Mr. Smith’s class you knew you’d pay for it on way or another, and nobody had _ever_ gotten perfect marks out of him. But his classes were always full and he had the lowest drop-out rate of the entire faculty.

Eren had always admired him, and maybe a little more. 

But then early last term he'd walked out of the main building just in time to watch as Mr. Smith verbally ripped into a senior he’d found harassing another student. The teacher had reduced a well known dickhead – who was about two and a half times his size - to a sobbing mess, in less than two minutes.

Maybe it was the fact that Eren's run-ins with the same asshole had never gone as well, or something about the look in Mr. Smith's eyes, he didn't know. All he knew was that after that incident he'd found himself thinking about the man all the time.

He sat up abruptly and glanced at the clock.

Less than a minute to go.

He pulled his bag in close to his leg and slipped his hand into the front pocket, only to yank it out a moment later as he heard Mr. Smith’s voice call out.

“Class dismissed. Turn in your assignment before you leave. Any late hand-ins will be an automatic failing grade.”

Eren's heart started thumping in his chest. He packed up his things as slowly as he could, but he was still done far too quickly. 

“Coming?”  Armin asked.

“Yeah. I just have to-“ Eren glanced over at his friend and saw his pale eyes were focused on the hand Eren had just tucked back into the front pocket of his bag. “I just have to do something first.” He felt his cheeks heat up as he pulled his empty hand out. Armin didn't say anything, but his gaze shifted back to meet Eren's and he had _that_ look on his face.

“What are we waiting for?” Eren’s eyes went wide. He'd forgotten to calculate for Mikasa.

“Nothing. I’m just-“ He wished he was better at making shit up. “I’ll meet you there.”

She leaned around Armin and studied him closely. Eren squirmed under the combined gaze of his friend and sister.

Armin must have decided to take pity on him. He gathered up his stuff and stood, pulling Mikasa with him. "Alright, we'll see you there."

Mikasa let Armin nudge her to her feet. “This doesn’t have anything to do with the little shrimp, does it?” She turned to scowl at the front of the room.

Eren felt his irritation briefly overshadow his nervousness. “Even if it does, that has nothing to do with you. And don’t call him that.” He heard his voice grow louder and dimly noticed the heads around them start to turn in their direction.

“All that stuff you read is giving you weird ideas.”

Eren’s mouth was open to reply when Armin shifted to stand firmly between them. “It’s fine Mikasa. Let’s go.”  He gently herded her away.

“Tiny-ass psychopath better leave him alone.”  Eren heard her mutter as Armin pushed her into the aisle and towards the door. Armin glanced back and mouthed something that looked like ‘cafeteria’. Eren nodded and waved, settling back into his seat.

The room still had a few other students. There was no way he could just walk up and hand the thing over with everyone watching.

He heard a giggle as a pair of girls walked past his row up to the front of the room. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Mr. Smith!” One of them set a pair of small boxes on the table behind the teacher's desk, already covered with a modest pile of brightly colored packages and envelopes.

Mr. Smith didn’t bother looking up, and he barely lifted his hand from the desk in a wave, but the girls were already on their way out the door – still giggling.

Eren stared after them, eyes wide. They made it look so easy.

Letting out a long, shaky breath, he hunched down low in his seat an tugged his backpack onto his lap.  He looked down at the plain brown box with its sloppy white bow. He hadn't been able to bring himself to buy anything too obvious, so he’d wound up grabbing an unpainted cardboard box and the first reel of ribbon he’d seen at the local supermarket, which had turned out to be some sort of twisted paper. He'd thrown away the card he'd written.

He wondered, yet again, what made him think this was a good idea.

Looking up, Eren felt his breath freeze in his chest as he saw Mr. Smith was standing just inside his office door at the front of his class, looking straight in his direction.

“Need something?” 

Eren shook his head emphatically, and held his breath until the man nodded and turned back into his office.

Shooting up to his feet, Eren glanced around.  While he’d been distracted the room had emptied out entirely. He was finally alone.

Hurriedly, Eren pulled out the box and slung his bag over his shoulder as he rushed to the front of the class, barely slowing as he all but threw the thing at the pile of Valentines on his way out.

He was almost at the door when he hesitated. He glanced back at the table.

His silly plain box had landed right at the front of all the pretty packages, and it stood out like a beacon. He had no doubt that as soon as Mr. Smith walked back in, he’d see it – and he’d know exactly who it was from. Keeping a cautious eye on the office door, Eren walked back over and pushed the package into the middle of the stack. He stepped back, and nodded to himself when he could see no trace of it.

He’d turned and was about to walk away when he felt his hand knock one of the envelopes off the table.

Dropping to his knees, Eren swore to himself when he saw that somehow the thing had managed to travel all the way to the back against the wall so had to edge all the way under the table before he could grab it. He turned it over in his hand and breathed a sigh of relief when he couldn't see any scuffs or bends.

“Find what you were looking for?” Eren jumped and whacked his head on underside of the table.

As he backed out and turned to face the man resting a hip against his desk. Eren found himself more than half wishing he’d knocked himself unconscious.

“I wasn’t- I just dropped this.” Eren held out his hand and saw one of Mr. Smith’s eyebrows arch upwards at the sight of the brightly colored, heart-shaped envelope. “Oh no. This isn’t mine.” He quickly turned and set it down on the table. His eyes widened as he looked down and realized the boxes had shifted. He hadn't thought he’d hit the table _that_ hard.

“I take it this one is yours?”

Feeling a sick sense of dread, Eren, looked back at the all too familiar box in his teacher’s hands.

He felt his throat go dry. “Yeah. Uh-” He swallowed. “Happy Valentine’s day.”

Mr. Smith studied Eren closely for an endless second before nodding slightly. “Thank you.”

"Okay, great." Eren started easing away, keeping his mouth clamped shut so he  wouldn't start babbling. He always made things worse when he babbled. 

But then, when he was almost back at the door, he stopped. He'd probably regret this, but...

Forcing himself to calm down, he turned back and finally made himself meet Levi Smith's gaze. 

"I actually just wanted you to know that I think you’re really amazing.” Mr. Smith’s eyes widened. Eren kept his fixed on the teacher's face even as he stepped backwards through the doorway and slowly inched away. “That's all, really.”

As he turned and walked away as fast as he could with any shred of dignity, and despite the many layers of embarrassment he was feeling, he was fiercely glad he’d gone through with it. That had been a smile on Levi Smith’s face, at the end, he was sure of it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've re-written this chapter a couple times, and it still isn't quite right. I hope you all enjoyed it for now, and I'll keep playing with it once the rest of the stories are done.


	2. Red Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi comes home to Erwin's Valentine's Day present. Or maybe presents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first Eruri chapter. These two are so sparky together I seriously hope I do them justice.
> 
> (And by sparky I mean sexual tension for ever and ever)

 

He came home to roses. The faint glow of the porch light shining through the leaded windows only just lit the shadowy outlines of the oversized bouquet, but the heady scent was unmistakable. It was like walking into a garden.

For a moment he simply stood and let the fragrance wash over him. He couldn’t see the color, but there was no need to turn on the lights. After nearly a decade of living with the man, Levi knew they’d be red.

Others might worry about being clichéd or predictable. Erwin Smith wouldn’t consider it in the slightest. But then, Levi had long since come to understand that Erwin’s brand of charm meant he could stand still and do absolutely nothing, and he would still wind up surrounded by a crowd of vacant faced idiots all gaping at him in awe.

It was irritating. Often. And if he didn’t love the shithead so much Levi would probably have kicked the guy’s ass for it years ago.

Slipping off his shoes, Levi neatly tucked his coat and suitcase into the cupboard before padding over to the small side table, almost hidden beneath the bulk of the flowers. He took in a deep breath, and ran his fingers lightly across the velvety petals. And then winced as he saw the phone, phonebook, and all the little souvenirs they usually kept on the table had been dumped on the floor underneath.

He cast a short look up the stairs, but decided to leave it alone.

Tugging one of the roses free, he started for the second floor, following the faint sound of flowing water. He took a moment to look over the bed as he walked through to the en suite, relieved to see the covers were as neatly tucked in as when he’d left that morning. Maybe Erwin had learned his lesson after the mess they’d made last Valentine’s Day.

Levi paused in the doorway, his gaze meeting Erwin’s in the mirror.

“You’re home early.” The muscles in Erwin’s back flexed slightly as he shook the water out of the shaving brush. He’d obviously just stepped out of the shower and wore only a towel wrapped around his hips.   

“Staff meeting was easy. For once.” Levi let his fingers trail up and down over the thorns on the rose stem in his hands as he appreciated the view.

And what a view it was. From his thick calves and thighs, his taut belly with its faint line of hair trailing distractingly down beneath the towel, all the way on up to his broad shoulders, Erwin was all perfectly sculpted muscle. His face would have been at home in an old portrait of some military hero, full of strong lines and a masculine beauty that still sometimes startled Levi.

“Thank you for the flowers.” He raised the single rose to his nose, breathing in deeply. “I’m surprised you didn’t throw petals all over the bed again.”

Those full lips curved as Erwin watched Levi’s reflection. His arm swished the brush around in the soap bowl fixed to the lip of the sink before lifting to start spreading the lather across his face.

Levi blinked and tilted his head. “Erwin. You _do_ remember how impossible it was to get those stains out of the sheets last year, right?”

“Hmmm.” Erwin’s hum was non-committal, and Levi sent a searching look over his shoulder at the bed. It looked just as it should. There were very few things that Erwin had not learned to do one-handed. Making the bed was one of them.

“I made reservations for nine-thirty.” Erwin’s deep voice had his gaze swinging back around. He could still see traces of the smirk beneath the foam, but Levi decided to let himself be distracted. For the moment.

“Hanji’s?” He stepped into the bathroom and hiked himself up onto his favorite spot on the counter.

“Of course. She said to tell you happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Same. But I guess I’ll tell her myself.” Levi leaned back against the cold mirror as he watched Erwin run the razor under the curve of his jaw. “I seem to have heard that more than usual this year.”

“So I wasn’t your only Valentine?”

Levi snorted. “I’m sure your haul was bigger than mine.” Erwin worked at the state youth correctional facility, and between the other staff and the kids he was rarely without a crowd of devoted followers.

“I told them I was only accepting the one this year.” Erwin’s sideways glance was amused. “From my true love.”

“Always such a smooth talker.” Rolling his eyes, Levi thought of the ridiculously sentimental card he’d bought in a moment of weakness that was currently buried deep inside the wardrobe. There was no way he could actually look Erwin in the face when he read it. He’d stuff it in his hand and leave early tomorrow morning or something.

For a few minutes the only sound was the soft rasp of the blade sliding over skin. As he watched Erwin swipe the last of the lather from his face, Levi scooted forward to sit on the edge of the counter and picked up the towel that lay beside the sink basin.

“So did you get anything special?” Erwin asked as he ducked to rinse his face.

The messy haired brat popped into Levi’s mind and he let a smirk play over his lips. Erwin stood and moved to stand between his legs. “Maybe. There was this one kid.”

“Oh, really?” One thick brow shot up. “Should I be worried?”

Levi ran the towel over Erwin’s face and pursed his lips. “Well, he does have a very nice ass.”

Erwin pressed forward, bracing his hand on the counter as he pushed Levi back, amusement in his eyes. “Nicer than mine?” 

Tilting his head to the side, Levi dropped the towel and clasped his arms around Erwin’s neck. “I might have to take a closer look. If we have time.”

“This is very important. They’ll understand.”

Levi wrapped his legs around the trim hips as his fingers twisted into Erwin’s damp hair.  His mouth opened hungrily under Erwin’s and he felt the low burn in his belly spread through his limbs. Crossing his feet, he hitched himself up.

He felt Erwin start walking, but it wasn’t until they were near the bed and he caught a glimpse of a raised crease in one corner of the bedspread that he pulled his lips away. “Erwin. Tell me you didn’t.”

Erwin’s hand moved from his back and Levi tightened his grip as the man leaned over to rip the covers back, revealing the red petals littering the white sheets. He had no time to say anything before Erwin dropped down, pressing Levi into the mattress. The heady scent of crushed roses mingled with the slight tang of Erwin’s skin and the mint of toothpaste.

Levi scowled. “You asshole. I liked these sheets.”

“Do you want to stop?” Erwin pushed his hips down as he propped his torso up with his arm. He smiled at Levi.

“Stupid shithead.” Levi muttered as he pulled Erwin back down.


	3. Orange Fizzy Space Dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanji's Place is packed, and Moblit has his hands full trying to keep everything running smoothly. Mostly because of Hanji being adorable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hanji and Moblit's chapter :)

The place practically screamed Valentine’s Day. Rainbow colored chains of hearts and arrows hung draped from the ceiling like vines, occasionally catching at the necks of unwary customers - the staff had all learned to duck. Painted fat cherubs chased each other across the darkened windows that lined the front of the building, wearing only strategically placed scraps of cloth (Moblit had insisted). Oil lamps cast a rosy glow across the restaurant as the low hum of conversation competed with a smooth voice singing something about putting sugar in bowls.

Moblit Berner cast an anxious eye across the room from the landing halfway up to the second floor kitchen. Everything seemed under control, so far, but they were beyond full. Every seat was taken, the larger tables filled by wedging together smaller groups. You never knew who you might end up sitting next to at Hanji’s - personal space was not a concept she worried about overmuch.

Even those couples lucky enough to have scored a table on their own found themselves more crowded than usual by extra tables that had been crammed into the already tight floor plan. They'd taken out the stools and the crowd standing in the bar area stretched out through the lobby to the sidewalk outside.

They had a waiting list of at least an hour, and despite the time and the near freezing temperatures outside he saw at least three more couples make their way in towards the host.

This place always filled him with a confused mixture of bafflement and pride. Somehow Hanji kept them all coming back, again and again, happily smiling, no matter what they put them through.

He wished she would at least let them take reservations on holidays to keep a little more control over the crowds, but Moblit had to admit this evening had gone smoothly, so far. Even the flu bug that had taken out three of their staff, and the one no-show hadn't caused any major issues.

He’d turned to head back up to the kitchens when he caught sight of the one conspicuously empty table nestled in a back corner. They didn’t take reservations, but Hanji didn’t consider ‘saving a place’ for someone a reservation. He’d never yet been able to convince her otherwise.

“What’re you scowling about?”

He glanced over as the source of his current problem stepped down and leaned back next to him, resting her elbows on the railing. “They’re still not here.”

“Huh?”

"Levi and Erwin. It’s nearly midnight.”

“Oh, them. They’ll be here, don’t worry.” Her eyes were wide and gleaming behind her round glasses. She was thinking of something else, and Moblit was wasting his breath.        

Even so, they’d probably lost a good four or five hundred dollars on that table, and he couldn't quite let it go yet. “That’s not the point.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She linked an arm through his and started down the stairs, tugging him along with her.

He stumbled, but managed to grab a hold of the railing before he sent them both tumbling down the stairs. “Hanji-”

“I have something for you.”

“Now is really not the time.”

She’d stopped listening as she caught sight of a pair sitting at one of the tables. “Oh hey, Balto, who’s the lady this time?” She pulled away and was halfway across the room before Moblit could stop her.

The woman, skinny as an eel, and with great deal of platinum blonde hair piled high on her head, yanked her hand back from the elderly man's stroking fingers. Her sharp eyes narrowed as she glared across the table. “Who else have you been seeing?”

Hurrying forward, Moblit turned Hanji around and smiled desperately at the couple. “I apologize ma’am. She must have mixed you up with someone else.”

He pushed at Hanji as fast as he could, but wasn’t quite far enough away when she craned her neck to look back over her shoulder. “Sorry, Balto. I like the new wig though.” Her voice was loud, and Moblit winced as the politician spluttered and his hands shot up to the brown toupee perched awkwardly on the top of his head.

He saw smiles spreading across the faces of a good many of the customers close enough to hear the exchange, but the two wait staff standing aside to give him a clear escape path were both wisely hiding their amusement. Moblit angled his head at the closer man, Dita, and the waiter nodded and smoothly moved to Senator Balto’s table.

Moblit fully planned to get Hanji out of the way and then head back to finish mollifying the man, but as soon as he had gotten her into the service area she turned and grabbed at his hands.

“I forgot. I made you something.”  She whirled, her grip tight as she searched the room. Evidently finding what she was looking for, she yanked him along behind her to where Jean stood beside one of the dumbwaiters that brought food down from the kitchen.

The young man looked up, his eyes widening as he saw Hanji bearing down on him. “It’s all ready, in the office.” He spoke quickly, even as he took a small step backwards.

“Excellent.”

Moblit dug in his heels as Hanji started tugging again. “Jean, I wanted to thank you before you left for covering today, I know you must have had plans.”

“It’s fine. Marco had a late class anyway.” The last was muttered, and Hanji whooped, letting go of Moblit to clap her hands together.

“Your face is bright red. Look at that. So you two are going out now?” She threw arm around the waiter’s neck, pulling him down so she could scrub a hand in his hair.  “You have to tell me all about it. Have you guys kiss-”

“Hanji.”

She pouted as she looked up at Moblit. “But it’s so _interesting_.” She eased up enough that Jean could stand, but kept her arm where it was.

“Remember, inappropriate vs appropriate?”

“Awww. Really? Sorry Jean.”  She patted him on the butt as she moved away and Jean took another long step back, pressing against the wall.

“Hanji!”

“What?”

“Touching butts is definitely inappropriate.”

“But you like it when I touch _your_ butt.”

Moblit felt his face flush, and saw Jean bite his lip. “That’s different.”

“Right. Different. Oh, yeah - your office.” Her face lit up as she remembered, and she was off again, grabbing Moblit as she passed.   

“Can’t you show me whatever it is later?” He thought of the embarrassed senator, and the hundreds of other customers that filled the building.

“Later'll be too late. C’mon, I just finished it.” They were back on the restaurant floor as she pulled him towards the office he rarely got to use.

“Oh hey.” She stopped abruptly. “Erwin and Levi are here.”

He was glaring at the now occupied table as she pulled him back into the office, so it took a moment before he saw the plate in the middle of his desk.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” She was smiling at him as she stood in place, shifting from foot to foot, and he blinked as he finally saw the emotion underlying everything else. She was actually nervous.

Saying nothing, he stepped over to the table and looked down at the neat little cake, a circle of white heavily dusted in orange powder. Carefully, he cut off a small piece, all the while aware of Hanji almost buzzing as she held still beside him.

She was brilliant, so he knew it would be good, but he felt his eyes widen at the taste. It was like the most amazing orange cream soda. He could even feel the bubbles hitting his tongue.

“Do you like it?”

“It’s delicious.”

“Really? I remembered you used to love that space dust stuff when we were kids, but it kept going flat so I had to make up my own, I couldn't make it taste exactly the same.” She had her hands clasped in front of her.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.” He smiled as he set the fork down. “Now let’s get back to work, and we can share the rest later.”

She grinned back. “Deal.”


	4. Brown Cups of Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean just wants to finish his shift so he can go hang out with his boyfriend, but he has to deal with a cranky relative and some obnoxious co-workers first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marco and Jean's chapter. One of my favorite things about this pairing is the way Marco seems to inspire Jean to make himself better, so I wanted to show that and I wanted the aunt and her relationship to contrast theirs and it all got away from me.
> 
> So this was meant be super short, and it isn't (sorry).

His great-aunt had been christened Prudence Amity Kirstein some eighty plus years ago, and while she’d refused to answer to anything but Sally from the moment she’d learned what exactly her parents had been hoping for, Jean couldn’t help but wonder if they’d ever regretted not naming her something like ‘Holy Terror’.

At least then everybody would have had some warning.

He was still halfway across the busy restaurant when she spotted him. “Oh, there he is. Jean – Jean!” She waved a thin arm through the air as if he could possibly have forgotten where she sat. “Honestly, boy, why do you always take so long?”

He stifled a sigh and set the tray down. “Your pie, Aunt Sally. Here’s your coffee, May.” His aunt’s longtime partner winked up at him as she accepted her cup.  

“Oh, well isn’t that a beauty.” Aunt Sally’s eyes were bright against the pale parchment of her skin as she beamed down at her plate. “Hanji certainly knows how to treat a girl right.” She scooped up some of the cherry pie, already drowning in a sea of whipped cream, sampled it, then grabbed the pitcher of fruit syrup and drenched the whole thing.

When she started shaking the powdered sugar over the mess Jean felt his stomach revolt. “Why don’t you just buy a bag of sugar and eat that? It’d probably be better for you.”

He knew better than to start anything with her, but it was too late.

“You know, just yesterday May and I were going through the old photo albums.” She slowly savored a mouthful as Jean felt the blood start draining from his face. “It truly is remarkable how much you used to love dressing up in my old clothes. Why, I found an absolutely darling picture of you in one of my old wigs and a lovely polka dot dress. We should bring it along with us next time, shouldn’t we, May?”

Her voice carried, as always, and out of the corner of his eye Jean saw Hitch taking her sweet time running a cloth across the next table over. “That was a long time ago.”

She cackled and shoveled up another bite. “Not as I recall it.”

“Leave the poor boy alone.” May smiled gently up at Jean. “We’ll be out of your hair soon, love.”

“Hmph. I could be dead any day now.” Aunt Sally jabbed a fork at Jean. “The boy should be grateful for every chance he gets to see me.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh please, Aunt Sally. We all know you’re planning on outliving us all.”

 She sniffed at that, but he could see the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Bunch of excuses. Just like a fancy lawyer.”

“That’s enough. Eat your cake.”

Aunt Sally complied. Jean was not surprised. May Jones was the only person in the world even his mother was afraid of.

On the surface, the pair didn’t seem to match at all. May’s deep brown skin was unlined, the strong angles of her face and her tall, willowy figure had barely softened with age. His wrinkled and crotchety aunt was all plump curves and noise and exaggerated motion. In Jean’s eyes, May had always seemed to exemplify a graceful, controlled strength. Men had always thrown themselves at May’s feet.

Of course, men had flocked after Sally Kirstein too, not that it had mattered. Aunt Sally and May had been inseparable since long before was born.

“We heard you decided to go ahead with the internship at the public defender’s office.”

Her calm eyes pinned his in place. He shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah.”

“It’s a girl. I tell you. No man gives up a chance at that much money unless there’s a girl.” 

Jean felt his face go hot. He started easing away. “It has nothing to do with a girl.”

“Of course it does.”

“Hush.” May kept smiling at him. “Whatever it is, we’re proud of you. You’ve grown up.”

Thankfully, they seemed to have dropped the subject by the time he came back out to help them into their coats. Neither of them said anything too remarkably embarrassing as he and May helped support Aunt Sally out to the taxi. She’d refused to bring her cane.

It wasn’t until he’d eased his aunt into the car and turned back to May that she leaned in close so she could whisper in his ear. “Is it a boy?”

He froze, and as she pulled away she patted his cheek.

“Bring him over sometime.”

 

\------

 

Jean figured that if his naïve self of two years ago had had any idea that he’d eventually wind up barely sleeping so he could work his ass off waiting tables and pouring over his coursework, he probably would have decided to give up on law school and just stay at home for the rest of his life.

He’d planned to coast through, getting grades just good enough to guarantee him a six-figure income somewhere he could do as little as possible. Everything had been going according to plan. He’d had a place all lined up - his mother had a friend who had a brother who worked at a perfect corporate law firm in a high rise somewhere in the city.

But now he’d just worked a twelve hour split shift waiting on a ridiculous number of tables. He’d swapped all his business classes to criminal law. He was tutoring some ridiculously dumb freshmen for extra credit.

And as he finally headed towards the locker room, he knew he wouldn’t change a thing now.  

The first sign he had of anything unusual was Sasha standing in the doorway. She grinned. “Hey Connie, he’s here.”                

Connie stuck his head out. “Hey there lover boy. Planning on getting some action tonight?” He jumped backwards into the room as Jean grabbed for him.

“I’m gonna do you a favor and wipe that stupid look off your face.” The two of them danced around one of the benches as Connie made kissing noises and Sasha hooted in encouragement, standing well back. Finally Jean lunged up and over the bench, catching Connie in a headlock.

“Sasha, help!” But Sasha was laughing too hard to do anything but clutch at her stomach as Jean scrubbed his knuckles into the top of Connie’s head.

“Um, hey Jean.” Jean froze and his head swung around at the soft voice.

“Oh yeah. Your boyfriend’s here.” Connie sniggered as Jean let go, staring at the last person he'd expected to see in the locker room.

“Marco?”

“I thought I’d come pick you up.” Marco held something out towards him. “I brought you a coffee. In case you were tired.”

Stepping forward, Jean took the brown paper cup and stared down at it, at a loss for words. He felt the familiar mix of nerves and happiness spread through him, magnified by surprise. He’d been looking forward to seeing Marco since he’d woken up that morning, but he hadn't been prepared to see him just yet.

“I’m sorry, I got the cups mixed up and I drank a little of it already. I can get you another one.”

“Huh?” Now that he looked, Jean saw the plastic lip of the lid had already been turned back. “Oh, no, that’s fine.” He hurriedly took a sip, relaxing a little as he felt the warmth spread through him. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Jean flushed at Marco’s slight smile.

He barely heard as Connie started making gagging noises. “Get a room, you two.”

“I think it’s adorable. Look at Jean’s face.” That got Jean’s attention and he swung around to glare at Sasha, just in time to see Moblit coming in through the doorway, with Petra right behind him.

“What are you two doing here – aren’t you meant to be out on the floor?” Moblit paused and eyed Sasha and Connie. They muttered something indistinct and had slipped back through the door before Moblit had taken another step towards the work roster hung at the back of the room.

“I’m sorry, I tried calling everyone I could think of, Petra, but we’re already stretched so thin, there just isn’t anybody I could get in at this point.” He traced his finger along the densely packed chart. “You could leave a little early, once we start winding down. That won’t be for a few hours yet though.”

“Okay, thanks Moblit. I’m sorry, it should be fine. Oluo said he’s not _that_ badly hurt, and the baby is with her sitter.”   

Jean felt his heart sink as he saw the smile Petra pasted across her face. His dropped his free hand to his apron ties, but he couldn't make himself undo them.

He felt a warm fingers wrap around his, pulling them away from his apron, and looked over to see Marco’s understanding smile.

“Come over to my place when you’re done?”

Jean huffed out a long breath. “You sure?

Marco leaned in and pressed his lips lightly against Jean’s. He squeezed his hand.

“I’ll be waiting for you.”


	5. Blue Corduroy Teddy Bears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is Annie's chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been wanting to write this scene for a while, and as this whole set of stories deal with different versions of love, it seemed important to add this element too. 
> 
> Annie is one of my most favorite characters, and her relationship with her father is one that I always find myself wondering about. 
> 
> It isn't a happy chapter precisely, (I picked blue for this one because it's meant to be both loss and longing), but I hope I manage to get the emotion across. 
> 
>  
> 
> Also, I like to make myself sad/happy by imagining that Petra would be an awesome mother.

Annie kept her eyes fixed on the textbook that lay open in her lap, as if trying to convince some non-existent observer she was actually studying. She held her pen ready over the notepad at her side, but the page was still painfully blank.

It was too quiet.

Traffic was rare this deep in the country, and the thick forests surrounding the old cabin muffled what little noise there was.  Inside, only the mechanical buzz of the refrigerator and the gurgle of water running through the radiators broke the stillness. 

Growing up in this house, when the silence got too loud, she’d imagined her ears didn't work, that she was actually surrounded by lots of noise that she just couldn't hear. But it had been a while and she was out of practice now. 

Music was the usual way she dealt these days. She thought about seeing if she could make the ancient radio sitting in the corner work, but a glance at the little girl curled up beside her on the couch convinced her that was a bad idea. Sophie had been a handful tonight – tired, and worried about her dad, she’d gone into hyperactive mode.  

Waking her up wasn’t worth it, but Annie had had enough. Softly, she thumped her book shut and eased up, letting Sophie’s head slip from where she had been using Annie’s thigh as a pillow. The girl sighed and tightened her grip on the teddy bear clutched in her arms, but her eyes stayed shut.

Annie dumped her useless books into her bag, along with her now mostly dry earphones, and looked over the room. She’d already cleaned the place, restocked the freezer, and made Sophie help her clean up all the messes she’d made. There really wasn't anything else left to do, now that she’d given up on studying.

The cabin was small, built around one multi-purpose main room - the dining table filled up the space behind the couch, and the kitchen crowded into a nook in the back corner. The whole place had always seemed undersized to Annie, as if it hadn't quite finished growing before they’d crammed their normal sized furniture into it.

Only a thin wall separated the room from the main bedroom, but the door was shut, and there was no sign of anyone else nearby.

The sound of a car crunching over gravel was unmistakable and very, very welcome. Annie was outside and waiting at the foot of the steps long before the car’s headlights were much more than a glow through the trees.

As Petra stepped out of the car and bustled up to the door, Annie caught a glimpse of Oluo sitting in the passenger seat.

“Is she asleep?”

Annie nodded as she let Petra in. “She was a little worked up, so she hasn’t been out for long.” Petra was already at the couch, and Annie watched as she scooped Sophie up smoothly. The kid didn’t even twitch.

“Thank you so much for keeping her with you so long.”

“Is Oluo ok?”

Petra rolled her eyes. “He’s fine. Apparently the dork was planning some fancy Valentines breakfast thing for us, but he forgot the flowers. He tripped on the curb in front of the florist.” She stroked her hand over the little girl’s back. “Broke his arm in three places, and they had to put stitches in his lip.”

Annie winced. “At least it wasn’t his tongue.”

“He’d probably have lost it, this time.” Petra shook her head. “I’m just glad he hadn’t picked Sophie up yet. Ah. Sorry.” Her lips turned up in a slight smile. “Good for me, but you must have had plans.”

Annie shrugged. “Nothing special. Sophie tagged along, anyway.” The kid had gotten in the way, but at least she’d made Annie’s weekly cleaning and cooking visit go by much faster than usual. Right up until she’d decided to wash Annie’s headphones in the sink. That had been a pain.

“Oh, here.” Petra tugged at the doll her daughter still held. Sophie protested wordlessly, tightening her grip, still asleep.

“It’s fine, she can keep it.”

Annie had to stop herself from shuffling her feet at the look on Petra's face. “Don’t be silly. I remember this guy. He’s special, right?”

It took a little tugging on Petra’s part, but a moment later Annie’s fingers were tracing over the worn blue corduroy of the little bear. As Petra draped Sophie’s coat over her back and stepped towards the front door, she hesitated, her eyes flicked to the door on the far side of the room. “How's your dad?”

“He’s fine.” Annie had never been able to get Petra to drop anything when she got that particular expression on her face, but she tried to keep her voice as brisk as possible.  

It didn’t work. Petra’s mouth was open for another question when the kid woke up, much to Annie’s relief.

“Mama.” Sophie pulled a little away and blinked sleepily. “Papa hurt himself again?”

Petra smiled. “Yeah.”

The little girl’s eyes went wide. “A lot?”

“Uh huh. But he’ll be just fine in a little while.”

“Silly papa.” Sophie shook her head. Annie recognized the look on her face, Petra wore it all the time.

“Yes.” Petra stroked her daughter’s hair as she nestled back in and closed her eyes. “Silly papa.” She smiled at Annie, and Annie knew she’d dodged another uncomfortable conversation.

She waved them off. As she walked back into the house somehow it seemed even more silent than before. She checked the back door, turned off all but the kitchen light, straightened the couch.

She had nothing left to do but leave, and yet she found herself standing in the center of the room, not leaving. Her eyes lingered on the faint blue light coming from under the door of the master bedroom. She let her feet carry her across the room.

Taking a deep breath, she twisted the doorknob.

The light from the TV cast flickering light and shadow across the room, but the sound was off. It didn't matter; the slow, deep breathing of the man that lay sleeping in the rumpled bed filled the silence.  

Annie stepped inside.

The room had its own bathroom, phone and TV. Her dad never left it, not while she was there. She knew the meals she filled the freezer with got eaten, so he must come out once she left. He refused to acknowledge her while he was awake, so she never went in until she knew he was asleep.

Pushing back the wheelchair beside his bed, she stepped in close and looked down at the man whose presence had always been as impossible for her to ignore as his absence.

He was so thin. He’d been huge, making everyone around him look tiny, and yet now he was dwarfed by his nightshirt. One of her hands hovered over the messy strands of hair at the side of his furrowed brow, but she stopped herself from smoothing them back.

She’d known when she’d made her choices that they hadn't been the ones her father wanted her to make. She’d disappointed him, and she’d taught herself to deal with it.

She gently tucked his blankets up around his chest and left.

When she finally drove away into the dark night, she lifted the doll and stroked it across her cheek, letting herself smile a little at the memory of the father who’d once given it to her.


	6. Pink Satin and Lace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Historia is concerned that Marco is still waiting for Jean, Ymir is concerned about... other things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historia and Ymir's chapter. 
> 
> I just want these two to be happy, so most of my headcanon/story ideas are basically these two being together in different situations. 
> 
> Which is why there isn't a lot of drama here, just lots of fluffy fluff.

She was already awake when Historia pulled away, but she said nothing, watching, letting her eyes trail along delicate curves lit by the glow of streetlights. Nestling deeper under the layers of blankets, Ymir thoroughly enjoyed the view of her very slightly dressed girlfriend leaning on the windowsill, the hem of her slip swaying against the tops of her thighs as she shifted from foot to foot on the cold wooden floors.

It wasn’t until she noticed a shiver run up along the slim back that Ymir broke the silence. “Come back to bed. You’ll freeze your ass off out there.”

Historia glanced back over her shoulder. “I will. I just wondered if Jean had gotten here yet.”

“Why does Jean matter?”

“No. I just- I’m just worried about Marco.” She turned to look back through the window, and Ymir saw the flash of teeth as she nibbled at her bottom lip. “I know he said he was fine, but he must have really been looking forward to their first Valentine’s Day together. He planned out tonight so carefully.”

Personally, Ymir was pretty sure her housemate had been carefully planning to get laid. The Valentine's aspect had been a bonus. “He’ll be fine.”

“I know, I just was hoping I could see if Jean had arrived yet.” She stood on her toes, as if getting a better look at their front door would help.

Ymir watched another shiver run through Historia. She sighed. “He hasn’t.”

This time, Historia turned completely away from the window, her head tilted as she studied the figure in the bed. “You were awake. You still can’t sleep?”

“Uh huh. And I’m never going to get to sleep if you don’t come back to bed. I’m cold.”

Even in the dim light, Ymir saw the corners of Historia’s mouth curve up, but she still padded back towards the bed. “You’re never cold.”

“I am now.” She shuddered dramatically as she lifted the blankets, wrapping them around Historia as she climbed back in.

Giggling, Historia pressed in close, nuzzling a cold nose against the heat of Ymir’s shoulder. “You are _so_ lying. You feel like a furnace.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Ymir tangled their legs together, scrubbing her hands up and down the cool skin of Historia’s back. Her palms snagged on the lace trim of the nightgown, lifting it up. The first inch or so was an accident, but Ymir happily kept going. She’d gotten the bottom hem mostly up past the curve of Historia’s butt before her girlfriend caught on.

“I thought you wanted to go to sleep.” Historia raised herself to her elbow, arching a brow at Ymir. 

“Yeah. Later.” Leaning forward, Ymir pressed her open mouth to the join of Historia’s neck and shoulder. When she felt the heartbeat fluttering beneath her lips, she nipped at the skin, and was rewarded as Historia pushed her to her back and slipped up to sit on her stomach.

For a minute, they just smiled at each other, and as the swell of almost overwhelming happiness surged through her, Ymir wondered, not for the first time, what she’d done to deserve this.

In the dimly lit room, the pale pink satin Historia wore was a shade of grey only a little lighter than her skin, and Ymir’s hand was a dark shadow as it slid across the slick material covering Historia’s stomach. She cupped a soft breast in her other hand, testing its weight, before shifting to catch the hardening nipple between her fingers.

Historia’s breath stuttered. Her hands slipped beneath Ymir’s shirt, bracing herself on bare skin as she arched her back forward and pressed harder into the palm of Ymir’s hand.

The covers were pushed back, but neither of them noticed the temperature anymore.

“Have I told you how much I love this thing.” Ymir’s hand shifted to play with ends of one of the bows that ran up the side of the slip, holding it together. Two more bows at Historia’s shoulders were all that kept the thing from falling apart.

“You should, I bought it for you.” Historia pressed herself against Ymir’s stomach as she leaned forward, the curtain of her hair blocking out the light as she licked at the corner of Ymir’s mouth.

Only to pull away a second later as they heard a car drive by the house.

Ymir groaned. “Forget them. They’re so beyond infatuated with each other it’s disgusting.”

“Ymir.”

“Fine, they aren’t disgusting. They’re adorable. They’ll be fine.”

Historia sighed, and laughed. “You know what else is adorable.”

She was so done with the whole Marco and Jean thing. She scowled. “What.”

Some of Ymir’s frustration faded at the feel of soft skin pressing against her as Historia stretched across the bed to press the switch on the light, only to be replaced by wariness once she could clearly see the glitter in the deep blue eyes.               

Pulling her hair to one side, Historia leaned down, her mouth close to Ymir’s ear, and whispered.

“I love you.”

Ymir’s breath caught, her eyes went wide. Her thoughts scattered, and all she could do was stare back at the girl sitting on top of her.

Historia whooped, bouncing a little. “That’s it. That expression.” She leaned forward again, slipping her hands back under Ymir’s shirt and up until her fingertips brushed the underside of Ymir’s breasts.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

With every repetition, Ymir felt her face burn. “Okay. Enough.” Finally pulling herself together enough to act, she reached up and wrapped her arms behind Historia’s neck, pulling her down to kiss away the words that wouldn’t stop coming.

By the time a car pulled up to the house, as Marco’s footsteps thundered down the stairs and as two sets of footsteps crept back up a few minutes later, they were too far gone to bother paying any attention whatsoever.


	7. Fuzzy Yellow Blankets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armin watches the dawn after Valentine's Day, with Eren and Mikasa at his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter :)
> 
> I wanted to show the friendship side of love here too, but maybe my shippery self made this a little more about the love side of friendship? I don't know.
> 
> I hope anyone who reads this enjoys it though - I know it's been a little all over the place (not always intentionally, unfortunately), but still.
> 
>  
> 
> If you'd like, my Tumblr username is afternoonteawithme - and I would love to hear comments or debates or whatever.

Armin woke, blinking against the soft dawn light streaming in through the window. He glanced down at Eren, curled up beside him with his head in Armin’s lap, and then over at Mikasa, her back to him as she nestled under his arm.

There was no sign to say for sure if Mikasa was awake or asleep, but he guessed asleep from how little tension he could feel in her body.

He could hear Eren snoring slightly, and smiled slightly as he stroked his fingers across the tanned cheeks, still slightly puffy from all the crying he'd done.

Armin figured the best thing to do when your best friend was suffering from unrequited love on Valentine’s Day was to keep them company while they got drunk. Eren had gotten very, very drunk.

Still, Armin was hopeful that Eren had started to move past it. Maybe.

Resting his cheek against Mikasa’s soft hair, he was drifting back towards sleep when he heard the apartment door creak open.

Annie’s face was as impassive as ever as she stepped in, but he thought he could see traces of the old sadness he hadn’t seen in a while. She clutched an old teddy bear in her hand, one he recognized from the one and only photo he’d seen of her as a kid.

“I’m glad, Mikasa said you weren’t going to make it tonight.”

She shrugged, her eyes shifting to the window. “It isn’t really tonight, anymore.”

He wondered if she’d driven around, waiting for first light before coming in. He hoped not. He raised the arm not pinned behind Mikasa. “Come on over, get some sleep.”

She raised her eyebrow. “What - you don’t have enough people piled on the couch already? I’ll head back to my place.” But she snagged the pair of fuzzy yellow blankets from the cabinet by the front door. “You guys are weird.” She draped one blanket over Eren, and moved to drop the other over Mikasa and Armin.

“You’re so noisy.” Mikasa reached out, startling both Armin and Annie. She yanked at Annie’s arm, and a minute later Annie was curled up on the couch, her head on Mikasa’s lap, the doll still clutched in her arms.

Mikasa pulled at the second blanket and threw it over Annie.

“Sleep.” She ordered, snuggling back into Armin.

And they did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it - thank you very much for reading!


End file.
